


Reunion Tour

by Elemental



Category: The Weekenders
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elemental/pseuds/Elemental
Summary: It's Christmas at the end of the decade: everything is a little bit different, and everything is a whole lot the same.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Reunion Tour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiosea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiosea/gifts).



Tino checked his hair in his camera feed one more time and grinned widely, trying make sure no stray spinach had appeared between his teeth. He generally liked to avoid spinach these days, but he knew the one time he didn’t check would be the one time he lived in infamy as spinach boy. That’d be a way to go viral. Again.

Teeth clear, hair in place, and out of the way of anyone who might plow him down on a bike, he hit record.

“Hi guys, Tino here!” he greeted the way he always did: it had become a signature style. “It’s Friday, December 20th, and I’m back home in Bahia Bay! Can’t you just smell the sunshine?” He turned the camera to take in the sights around the boardwalk: surfers, joggers, sunbathers, and the faded yellow and orange of the Snack Shack. “It’s good to be home! I know I was back for PMX, but convention schedules are just crazy and I didn’t ever get a chance to relax, get myself a chilli dog and enjoy the simple things in life!” The sun slipped behind a cloud, and for a moment the levels on the recording struggled to adapt, so he waited it out: it would be easy enough to edit out before uploading.

“Anyway,” he continued once the sun returned. “My usual uploads are going to be more casual the next two weeks, which I think works because everyone’s gearing up for the holidays and New Year, right? My mom’s demanded I help clean out the attic after solstice, so be prepared for a bunch of nostalgia bombs, along with a return of my infamous ‘Is This Even Food’ segment. Mom says she’s really into ‘ancient grains’ these days: I’m just hoping it’s better than her fermented foods kick.” Tino didn’t have to fake the shudder. “We’ll go back to your regularly scheduled Tino Talks programming in the new year, but for now, let me know if there’s anything in Bahia Bay you want me to cover while I’m here. Later Days!” 

That done, he bought a chilli dog and took a selfie. The guy at the Snack Shack had retired and his son had taken over a few years ago, but the food was still good even if the service lacked the weird flair. A lot of Bahia Bay just didn’t have the same feel as it used to, Tino often thought, but maybe that was growing up for you. 

He tucked himself up against the side of the Snack Shack in the shade and got his video ready for upload. It took only a few seconds to trim the weird lighting shift and cut out the pauses: he had a style to keep up after all. This was an Instagram update, at least, that he’d mirror to his Youtube and Facebook fanpage. Full vlogs always took a lot more time and needed actual editing, but he could put out a bunch of these smaller slice of life things and keep folks entertained.

He hit post and finished his snack, then pushed himself upright and picked up his bag. He’d gone to the boardwalk first, since Mom said she wouldn’t be home until after lunch and his flight had gotten in early, but if he stated walking now he’d probably get home in time to meet her.

(And this way when she asked if he’d eaten, he could say yes and wouldn’t be lying.)

\----

“Tino, it’s not going to eat you, and if you’re looking for a jump scare the lighting’s all wrong.”

“Like I promised folks,” Tino smiled over his phone at his mom. “Today’s special is what, exactly?”

His mother sighed at him, but her voice was fond if exasperated. “Jicama hash with soybean steak.”

“More like soybean _mistake,_ ” Tino quipped. 

“I feel like you’ve used that one before,” his mother pointed a fork at the phone camera. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, jicama has a lot of inulin and vitamin C.”

“Riiiight,” was Tino’s drawn out response. He turned the camera to face him and his expression said everything about his feelings on the meal. “At least it isn’t an ancient grain, I guess.”

“We’re having flax cakes for dessert,” his mother made sure she spoke up to be heard on camera. “With seaberries.”

To that, at least, Tino could grin. “Au contraire,” he winked into the camera. “You can have flax cakes. _I_ brought cookies from New York.”

Tino waited for his mother’s response of “Traitor” before he stopped recording. She was watching him, thoughtful as she always tended to be at dinner, even now. “Was that enough for your tube gram?”

Tino sighed. “YouTube and Instagram, mom, and I know you know them. You brag about them to the neighbors.”

“I do,” she continued with her meal while Tino prodded at his. “But I like to pretend to be clueless for your sake. How else are you going to feel morally superior to your elders?”

Tino attempted the hash. It actually wasn’t too bad: it was somehow vaguely like an apple and a potato had gotten together one night and had a weird, weird jicama kid. “I don’t know about feeling superior,” he pointed out while nudging the faux steak to the edge of the plate. “I live in a gig economy and make a living filming my life for strangers on the internet while the whole world is melting around us. I think I’d rather pretend my elders were doing something about that, instead of pretending they’re all technophobes who can’t program a microwave.”

His mother winced. “Ouch. Touche.” She laced her fingers together and propped her chin up on them. “What’s bugging you?” 

“It’s nothing.” She waited with an eyebrow raised. “I’m not sure what it is,” he admitted as the silence grew. “I’m still figuring it out.”

His mother could always read him: it was something he appreciated, even if it was sometimes creepy, and so she accepted that because it was the truth. “Well, all right,” she got up to refill her glass and patted his shoulder as she passed him. “I’m here to talk when you’re ready. In the meantime, when are you seeing the old gang? Maybe you need some of that youthful nihilism to sort it all out.”

Tino had to laugh. “We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow at the pizza place. And it isn’t nihilism if the world really _is_ ending.”

She ran a hand playfully through his hair. “Not yet it isn’t, buster. Now eat your hash and tell me, did you bring cookies enough to share?”

Tino reached an arm around her and hugged her tight, too grateful for her, realizing just how much he’d missed her in the mess that was life in New York. “You bet I did.”

\-----

The rubber ball bounced off the wall, onto the floor, and angled perfectly to land in Carver’s hand before he threw it again. He was laying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. “Really? They couldn’t get you into _Hamilton?_ If _I_ was a famous YouTube star, you better believe they’d be getting me tickets, otherwise what’s the _point?_ ” 

“I’m not famous,” Tino argued for what felt like the millionth time. “I’m YouTube famous, and not really even that. 3 million subscribers isn’t that much these days.”

“Three _million_ isn’t much, the man says,” Carver could somehow put an eye roll into words to this day. You didn’t even have to look at him: you could _hear_ it. “Three million.”

“He’s right,” Tish looked up from her phone, perched on Tino’s computer chair with one leg tucked up under her. “To be on a top 20 list, you have to have at least 20 million subsribers. Tino’s small fry.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry Tino.”

He shook his head. “You’re right, and that’s the point. I’m a small fish. A small, easily frightened fish that talks about weird food his mom makes and explains how the universe hasn’t ended yet but it totally might and posts about cool dogs I met and the comics I’m reading. I don’t get recognized constantly or anything like that, and I get promo things from like, shaving subscription boxes and underwear companies, not sold out Broadway shows. Those I have to wait in line and pray for rush tickets like everyone else.”

“Than what’s even the point of stardom?” Carver caught the ball and looked at Tino directly. “Dude, you pay New York rent with three million subscribers.”

“Yeah.” Tino loved Carver to death, but the man still thought fame was the end all be all of something. “And I buy groceries and clothes with writing gigs and convention appearances.”

“What about merchandise?” Tish queried. “One would think you’d have a greater profit margin with merchandise, compared to ad revenue with YouTube.”

Tino rubbed his forehead. “Oh yeah, sure, right up until you have to deal with manufacturers yourself and shipping and fulfilment and moldy shipping containers and argh!” Tino looked up at Tish between his fingers. “Sorry. War flashbacks.”

“Wait, backup,” Carver rolled to his side. “They do _underwear_ subscriptions now?”

They were saved from explaining the economics of _MeUndies_ when the door to Tino’s room opened and Lor belted out a ‘Merry Christmas’ that shook the rafters as she stepped inside, laden down with gifts. “The McQuarrie is here, now the party can _really_ happen!” 

“Lor!” Tish was the first to her feet and a moment later had Lor in a fierce hug that spun them both around. “It’s been forever!”

“Hey, you’re the one working in France for that collision thing,” Lor pointed out, laughing. She set her bags down and took a step back to examine Tish and the gang. “You’re looking fancy,” she told Tish with a grin. “What’s all this for?”

“It’s for me,” Tish shrugged and smoothed out the retro styled dress she was wearing. “I reject the notion that a woman has to dress up for anyone, but I spend all day in PPE or lab gear and pants are really a necessity when you have to bike around the whole perimeter at least once a week to check on things; none of the bikes have chain covers.” 

Lor opened her mouth but Tino interrupted her. “Wait, you bike around the office? I thought you were researching how stuff explodes. You know. But doesn’t.” They’d all been unsurprised when Tish had gotten the position in France, even if it had been rough on all of them - Lor especially - to deal with the distance and timezone differences. 

Tish tugged Lor into the room properly, laughing. “It’s the Collider, and we’re trying to understand how quantum physics works, guys, not explosions.”

“Uh,” Lor settled next to Tish on the floor. “Pretty sure this is where you say it isn’t quantum physics to show how easy it is?”

“Well this time it is,” Tish adjusted her glasses. “And we’re all on break until the middle of January, so I can explain it to you for as long as it takes.”

Carver took pity on Lor, who looked slightly green at that much science in one go. “How’d you get so much time off?” 

“French ideas about vacation time and sensible working hours are _sans pareille,_ ” Tish stretched back, her shoulders cracking. “It really puts working back home into perspective. Did I tell you we started a dulcimer group?” Tish rocked forward, hands clasped together again. “Urna plays the yangqin and Baptiste plays the Belarusian dulcimer and I just can’t believe CERN has so many musicians! We’re working on something based on the Fibonacci sequence, it’s really quite beautiful.”

“I’d ask you the fiba-what-now, but I really don’t care.” Carver dragged himself to sit with the girls. “Come on, Tino, time’s a wasting. Let’s do presents so we can get food already - I’m hungry.” 

Lor clapped her hands with glee. “Yes! Tino, you get to do the handouts this year. You have to wear the hat.”

“Do I look like a man who’d forget the hat?” The hat was tradition, just like pizza was. It was some horrible amalgamation they’d found in a discount bin years ago: blue, with antlers and holly, with a fur band that had black candles etched into it. The back read _Merry Holidays_ in comic sans. It was horrific and $2.50 and it was a _rule_ that it had to be worn by the Gift Distributer every year since.

Adjusting the hat (the fake fur was itchy) Tino grabbed his stack of wrapped gifts from his bed and brought them to their circle on the floor. It was eerily familiar, almost achingly so: how many weekends had they spent here, planning their next adventure? Even if that adventure had just been going to the mall. “Just like old times, huh guys?”

Lor leaned over and rubbed her knuckles against his scalp. “I’m sensing feelings! Don’t get sentimental on us, Tonatini.” 

Tino let her mess up his hair, tapping the floor in defeat. “I yield! I yield! I’m just thinking about how much I missed you guys!” Tino grinned at everyone, his heart full. “New York is nice but… I think I want to move home.”

The look on everyone’s face was worth it. “Really?” Lor gave up on bruising his scalp: the hug she threw around his side was bruising his ribcage instead. “That’s amazing!”

“But what about your work?” Carver still looked hopeful. 

“I can film in California as well as I can in New York, and I don’t know… I think maybe the weather’s just getting to me. I’d never thought I’d say this but I’m so _tired of snow._ ” Tino sighed when Lor finally let him go. “It’s been on my mind for a while, but seeing everyone here made me really realize it.” Tino punched carver - who didn’t really do hugs - on the shoulder. “Besides, have you tried New York pizza? Yuck.”

“Yes! Tino’s coming back home!” Carver fist pumped into the air. “And just in time. Did anyone get a look at what the pizza place is doing this week?”

“I saw the sign driving in,” Lor rubbed her hands in anticipation. “Tish will like this one. ‘Lettuce Celebrate?’”

“Ohhhh, maybe they do Lettuce Wrap pizza rolls,” Tish enthused.

Carver groaned dramatically, rolled back just far enough to grab a pillow from Tino’s bed - and beaned her with it.

The resulting pillow fight was epic. Brief, but epic. They ended up splitting a seam on one and the room (and Tish’s hair) was filled with feathers and the sounds of laughter as outside… well. It couldn’t snow.

But the sun shone on, and maybe a little brighter than the day before.

Just like old times.

\---------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas / Happy Yuletide Kaiosea. Thank you for the wonderful prompt. I hope the idea that Tino would end up on YouTube (and Tish making waves at the LHC) suits where you'd think of for the characters. It was a real treat taking a look at the future - and rewatching the whole series in the process.


End file.
